


I'm 99% Convinced This Isn't real

by ariatheminidragon



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: All Platonic - Freeform, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Inner Dialogue, Lonely Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Memory Loss, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), No Dialogue, Protective Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo and Tubbo are platonically married, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Teleporter Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), only sometimes, please dont be weird i will cry, ranboo has issues but ignores them for too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 08:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariatheminidragon/pseuds/ariatheminidragon
Summary: It was fine.Please, please, please, stop walking, stop. I don’t want to do this. Why can’t I stop? I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to hurt anybody, please, please, why can’t I stop? Please I don’t want any part of this, I don’t want to do this, I can’t control my body, please, I just want to stop. Please, please, please, please, please, please--yeah, it wasn't fine.-title from 99% by Heart Attack Man
Comments: 1
Kudos: 78





	I'm 99% Convinced This Isn't real

**Author's Note:**

> idk its not great i just got bored and word vomited take it or leave it

The weather was always cold and wet. Ranboo had never lived in an area with so much water, frozen or not, and there had been a learning curve that he spent getting burned by small droplets of water that had melted on the floor by the entrance and his pets shaking off snowflakes when they came in the house. That was fine. He just needed to pay more attention to where the water was and have enough random towels laying around so he could wipe it up. He learned that icicles were not his friend because the slightest amount of sun would melt them. He had water droplets run down his back one too many times. That was fine. He learned, and added knocking them down to his routine, even if his hands took the brunt of the water damage now.

It was fine.

He wouldn’t say he was lonely. Of course, he had mainly lived in highly populated areas in the past, where he saw people everyday, even if he didn’t speak to them. He spent a lot of time by himself back then too, but he didn’t feel alone. The tundra was definitely different. Ranboo was by himself most of the time, which wasn’t unusual, but he didn’t see people pass as often. Technoblade wasn’t home a lot, usually out adventuring and doing whatever a piglin hybrid does. That was fine. Ranboo had all his pets and sometimes he would go see Tubbo in Snowchester. He wasn’t lonely. 

It was fine.

Ranboo was forgetful. He would admit that, because he’d known for as long as he could remember (which wasn’t long). He couldn’t remember much after 6 months, unless he wrote it down in one of his memory books and revisited it every now and then. His short term memory was a bit better but there were still some parts of his day that would be completely blank if he didn’t write down any notes. That was fine. He went through a lot of ink and paper, but at least he had a small sense of control. It was frustrating that he had to pause and read a few pages before talking to people, it was frustrating that some people wouldn’t even talk to him because he couldn’t remember some details from a previous conversation. It was frustrating that there was no way he could write down everything, so some things would slip through the cracks. That was fine. Most people were understanding and helped him along. Tubbo was always patient, and that’s all that really mattered.

It was fine.

Sometimes he had nightmares. He wouldn’t remember them for long after waking up, so he didn’t want to think too much about it, but he always woke up crying. Ranboo couldn’t tell if he was startled out of his sleep by the dream itself or the pain on his cheeks from the tears, but he was high strung after and had no chance of falling back asleep. He would sit in bed with a lantern beside him and flip through his memory books, cheeks and under eyes stinging. That was fine. So he was tired for the next few days? No big deal. It gave him a chance to freshen up his memory and he felt a bit more prepared for human interaction.

It was fine.

So Ranboo and Tubbo were married and they had a son named Michael. It wasn’t something he had been expecting, their little family had grown in a very short amount of time. Honestly the whole marriage had been fairly spur of the moment, but neither boy seemed to mind. They were close friends before, so not much had changed, except for the addition of the baby zombie pigman. Something Ranboo had really not expected though was the protectiveness he felt over their small unit. The thought of something bad happening to Tubbo or Michael was enough to convince him he should join the syndicate. He couldn’t risk something happening to them, and if he strayed from his typical path of not choosing sides, then so be it. As long as his family was safe. That was fine. He would do what he could. He wasn’t paranoid about any of it, the situation was under control and Tubbo wasn’t helpless. He could protect Michael and himself. He didn’t compulsively check on Michael, he didn’t check in with Tubbo more than usual. 

It was fine. 

_Please, please, please, stop walking, stop. I don’t want to do this. Why can’t I stop? I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to hurt anybody, please, please, why can’t I stop? Please I don’t want any part of this, I don’t want to do this, I can’t control my body, please, I just want to stop. Please, please, please, please, please, please-_

It was fine.

Ranboo knew his memory was not the best. He knew that he forgot small details a lot. He knew that if he didn’t write stuff down he’d forget. He knew, he knew, he knew. He always had a book on him. He knew even if the detail wasn’t super important he would remember enough to not feel completely lost as long as he wrote it down. That’s why he wrote so much stuff down throughout the day. He didn’t have his book with him. Where was his book? How did he forget that? Why was he in the community house, passed out? How did he get there? Why didn’t he have his book? Where was it? Where was it? Ranboo never really ran. He found that when he did, he’d get a little spazzy and accidentally teleport ahead or behind by a few blocks. It made him sick to his stomach, so he avoided running when he could. He didn’t care right now though. He needed to go home and f̵̬͛i̵̜͔͝n̴̰͖̑d̵̡͖͍̈́ ̶͍͓͑̍͜h̶̳̫̫͑̔̋i̵̳̪̇̃̒s̵͂̅͠ͅ ̸͖̓͌͑b̷̪͉̍ö̸͙̪́̊ō̸͙k̴̮̩͉̈̆͒. P̵̨̼̈͂l̵̝̈ę̴̨̘̳̫̱͓͍̐͗̊̄a̵̧̻̽s̴̳̫͉̾ẻ̴̡̨͍͈̻̜̭̽̐ ̵̡̛̭͔̺̳̯̺͔͊͗͆̍͗̎͝w̶̬̥͎̯̮̗̥̅̕͘͝ḩ̴̔̅̂̈́͗͗e̸̡̜̘̙̅̐r̵̛͖͍̺͇̰̟̈́̅̇̈̐̐e̷̢̨̘̝͖̗͈̅̆̓̈͗ ̴͎͇̂͐̄͛̚̚w̸̮͓͓͍̾͗̀͊̈́͘̚ã̵̧̡̩̰̦̦̃̅͑͋͝ş̷̮̀͐͛̓ ̴̝̞̠͇̥̤̈́̿̿̿̄͌͘ḥ̵͔͔̍ĩ̶͎̲̭͙͈̻͔̎̂̕s̸̺̜͒͌͛͊̎̇̕̚ ̷̧̱̲̜̰̹̗̅̑͐̇̀b̷̙̩̩̼̒̾̓̂͋̊̐͘͜õ̵̡̳̝̺͗̌͋̅͝͝o̷̺̙̱k̸̞͙͓̬̲͔͒̈́̅̈̍?̴̨̖̖͉̲̠̑͐̽̕

It was fine.

Ranboo woke up feeling refreshed for once in his life. No nightmares, no anxiety as soon as he woke up, just peace. Before getting out of bed, he flipped through his memory book, remembering he needed to meet up with Tubbo. They were building a mansion together, and he was excited. He swung his legs off the bed and quickly got dressed, fed his pets, pulled some weeds in his garden, and made his way to the build site. Things felt different, but not a bad different. Just new. That was fine. It was going to be a good day.

It was fine. 

_I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to feel like this, I want this to stop. Why can’t I stop? W̵͉͔͇̉͜h̶̥͖̅͑̃̽ŷ̴̳̜̫̓̆ ̵̡͍͇͌͆̔͊̌̚c̸̡̧̙̰͚̺͔̰̳̈́̈́̎̍̉̓̈́̚ȧ̵̢̦̘̪͇͎͍̫̌̏̄͂͝n̶͉̠͕̽͗̓̽̅͒́͘͠'̶̫͋͐̂̌͛̽̑̈́̃t̴̢̲͎̞̜͚͑͗̌͠͝͠ͅ ̷̡͙͍̑̚͜͝Ĩ̷̡͇͂͑̄͌͛͘͘͜͝ ̴̛͉̤͉͌́̓̐̃̓s̷̙̲͖̼̹̜͍̝̓̅͆̄̔̚t̸̢̺̅̊͊͆͗̚͝͝o̷̙̝̥͔͓͑̃̎͑͐͒̂̎̈p̷͖͖̖̫͇͙̥͖̃́̔͂͐͆̊̔̚?_

It was not fine.

Nothing was fine. It never had been fine. Things were a mess. He had a nightmare every night. At least he thought they were nightmares. He never remembered them for long enough to write them down, but he always felt this intense sense of deja vu after. They seemed too real to be nightmares, or dreams or whatever they were. He started waking up from them in weird places that he had no memory of going to. He never had his book on him when he woke up. His face was scarring from the tears, and he felt sick to his stomach most of the time. Things were not right, but he didn’t remember enough to know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to fix it and he didn’t know if he was a danger to be around. What if he was being controlled again? What if Tubbo and Michael got hurt because of him? Why was he so out of control?

It was not fine. 

N̴̜̼͉͕̝̽͆ͅo̸̧͎͕̠͊̎͆̓͝,̴̳͖̘̍̋̓͐̀̈́̚ ̴̢̗̼̟͎̤͈͆̃̌̓n̶̬͍̄̒ö̴̡̗͉̗͕̫̫̖́̿͑,̵̧̯̥̫̺̈́̚̕̚ ̴̮̯̣̗̱̉̍̈͋̄̏͜͝p̶̼͌̈́͛͐̌͐͝ḷ̸̐̇̓̐͆ͅe̷̡̱͓̟̟͛a̸̼̳̹͗̾s̷̭̭̟̦̙̄͂͛͂̚ę̴̛͔̼͇̦̜̯̺͛̐,̶͚̲̫̇̾̍̅̔ ̴̨̝̺͋̒͌̈́̂̕͜I̴̧̬̝̘̻̪̐̈́͂̅ ̵̦̔̓͛̾̕͝d̴̘̉͗̆͠ö̶̫̗́͆͌͊̔͊n̷̆̏ͅ'̸̢͍̳̞͉̈̃̃̈̿̕͝ţ̷͚̭̜̭͓̗͛͜ ̴̡̭̬͗̏͑́w̴̧̛̙̺͋̓̈́̄̌͝ā̸̫̊̉̇ņ̸͓̣̭̲̅͐̓͜t̴͍̩̻͉͊͑̔̋̊͊͘ ̵̙̮̓̇̓͂͘t̶̡̛͔̘̪͇̦̃͆̎o̶̡̬͔͕̪͇̩̤̕ ̴͙͎̼̑̽͠h̴̙̑̄̍̈́̿̎̿͠u̶̡͖̤̩͎͇̓̊͜͝ͅr̵͈̗̘̖͊̃͂͒͊̒̚ţ̶̛̭̻͙͖͇͊̈͜ ̶̢̮̠̩͈̔̈́̓͐ṯ̸̽͆̋̿̚h̷͕͔e̴̱̝̙̼̯̰͘̚͝m̷̹̼̠̹̖̱͇̊̏̔͌͆̕͠͠.̶͓̠̮̊̈̐͜ ̸̡̨̠̣͇̼̼̦̈Ī̵̳͂̐ ̵̡̻̬͇̠͎̪̌̿͋̎͐ͅd̵̳͓̱̭̱̅̚o̶̻͉̻̠͉̤̺̫͋ñ̷̨̗̓͝'̴͍̈̔̋̓̔̆̽͘t̵̛̼̜̋̓͑̕ ̴͙̩̼̹͕͕̋̍̎͑͠w̸̪̱͉̳̺͑̒̀̄̓̾ͅa̸̼̟̘͑͑n̵̞͙̘̮͐̎̔̐t̸̤͖̣̘͛͊̎͘͝ ̸̪̜̂̾̃̈́͋̅t̸̛̯̀̏̆̐͊̈́̿ő̷̲̻͖̪̬̥̫͈ ̷̙̠̖̐̂d̸̡̹͙̲̟̉̿̈͘ͅo̴̡͚̪͊̈̅͑͑͌̌̕ ̷̣͊̑̑͑t̴̨̥̓͌̚h̶͔̱͍͈̿̀̽͠ȉ̶̡͉̬̭̭̩̩̠̍͝s̷͇̮͙̉̂̃̌͊̈́͘,̶̳̲̬̈́̏͋͑̒͜ ̴̛̲̱͛̋̄̓̿͗͘p̴͎̈́͛̎͆̏͗̚l̶̢̪̳͙̯͖̆̃͛͠ͅę̷̳͖̬͙͇͌̅̏̄̄͠a̶̡̪͚͔̮̗̲͂̎͐s̷̘͚̾͒̀̈́͠é̴̦͖͚̣̪͈͆̇,̶̣̹͇̮̟̼̾̏͋ ̷̨̧̱̝̘̗̐͐͋̈̋͂͜͝ͅş̴̱̯̺̳̬̝̀̏̅͂̋̈́͝t̴̳͇̀͘o̵͕͍̟͖͇̔ͅp̶̠̣͎̻̊.̴̡͕͓̲̣̤̥͓͑̀͐̕̚ ̶̼̳͛̂͗̐̔

S̶̨̡̡̡̡̧͍̮̱̰̺͙̦̥̫̝̰̞̦͎̟̗͓̜̬̝̞̭͕͔̘̼̺̺͉͈̥͇̩̱̖̭̫͔̟̫͔̫̝̳̜̭͔̟̖̪̺͖̞̲̤͈̤͙̈́͐͒̈́̈́̈̽̿̈̓̃̄̂̔̂̌͐̆̋́̒̌͗̈̈́̐̑̑̍̏͌̈̄̾̒̈́̐̓͋̽̓͊̾͌̒̿̍̅̅͆͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠͝t̵̠̐̈̈́̊̈́͝ǫ̵̨͔͔̪̥̥̗̤̻̮͎͇̜͚̗͈̜͇͇̪͕̭̘̞̳̓̋̌̀̿̇̈́̋͌͂̑̓̀̒̃̒̅̂̅̂͝͠p̷̡̛̛̛̛̦͖̲̭̖̩͖͇̜̺̥̲̻͔̈́̐͒͛̂̈́̓̿͂̽̅͐͒̊͒̂̈̂̏͌̑̊͆̃̄̎̃̎̓̓̈́̃̒̅̎͊̊̄͂͆͐̃̾̾̋̒̓̅̆̈̚̕̕̕̚͘͜͠͝ͅ,̶̡̡̧̢̡̡̢̧̢̡̛̛͚͇͓͓̱̠͔̟͎͇̘͇̪̝̞̟̥̞̖̘̩̲̼͇͇͙̱̲͓͙̭̖̜̲̺̪̻̲̘̰͈͎̬̳͇̺̙̱̪̖͖͈͚̬̥̗̭̖͍̉͋̓̎̿́͂͋̅̓̇̌͆͛͐̂̽̎̆͊͌̽̈́͆͊͂̒̆̈́̈̋̆̊̈̈̄͑̇̾̅̎͐̇̉̓͊͑̈́͋̆̑̿́̀̑̍̔̾͆͋̚͘̚̕̕̕͜͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵͙̬̐̒̒͂̅͊̉͌̃̉̄̏̄̃̋̏͊̆̋̀̊̌̆͛͋̃͐̋̃̑͒̅̄̇̎̀͛̕͘͝͝͝͝s̷̨̧̺͕̭͕̞̥̼̯͖͇̦̭͔̪̗͉̟͔̱̲̠̭̙͎̊̃̀̾̔̅̊̽͐́͂̀̑͂͗̽͒̊͋͒̓͑͊̽̌͋̂̽̈́̅̅͊̽̔̋̂̋̄̊̑͑̿̍̂͒̓͂̄̉̈́͊̽̓̔̔͂͆̍̑̕̕̕̚͝͝t̷̨̛̹̥̜͚̭̥̝͔͙̟̂̀̆̅̽̐͛͆͌̇͗̾̋̅̈̓͆͆̊͋̈́̒̇͒̂̐̋̈͌̄̿̊́͐̂͂̐͐̈́̍̉͒̅̓̈́̌̑̐͆̓̋̈́͑̅̉̿̓͐͆̓̔̈͐̎͆̐̉͆̎͘̚̚̕͠͠͝ơ̷̡̛̝͔̯̮͎̗̖̯̹̥͉̝̼͚̳̬̹̩͕̹̯̭̞̖̳̯̝̗͕̤͍̪͈̯̜͉̳͚͇̫̰̻͕̤̞̲̟͇͕͈̟̭̠̜͖̬̻͕̻̖͋̂̒̄̄̋̏̒̐̈́͐͋̈́̔̎͆̀̈͂̉̿̚̕͘͜͝ͅͅͅp̴̨̢̢̢̧̛̳͕͚̘̪̩͉͙͎̟͔̥͇̘͙̠͔͚̝͙̋̈́͊͒́̋̾͛͋͐̐̔̍̾̔͘̚͠͝,̵̧̨̢̡̡̧̢̡̧̛̛̛̙͎͖̣̝͉̼͎̬͕̯͖̪͔̻̟̦̬̞͇̺̘̙̼̗͖̗̭̞̦̬̦̬̝̜̫̗̪̤͉̬̙͍͇̘̟͖̺̻̘̙̤͎̩̥͍̱̦̜̭͙̫̇̐͊̄̄̃̓̃̂́̈́̈́́̈̈̊̔͆̅͌̌͛͛̾̓̇̑͊͛́̿̍̂͂̔̐̔͋̆͆͒̊̈́̅͗͊̄͑͒̐͒͊̍̈́͊̓̈̊̈́̕͘̕͜͠͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̛̛̠͔̠͚̳͈͍̼̣̥̭̹̬̖̊̈́̿͐̂̾̎͒̀͆̑͆̋̓̾̒͌̎̇̃̆̃̀̌͆̓̊̃̀̇͌̔̒̍̇̒̈̒́̌͋̌̾̽͑̒̋̏̂̈́̏͂̒̽̔̔̅̆̉͑͛͐̒̂͌͊̉̿͂͂̇͘͘̚̕͘̕͜͠͝s̶̨̡̧̧̧̧̨̡̧̲̦̲̠͕̠̼͉͈̰̞̻̥̤̼̳̼͙͚͓͙̞̤̖̗̯͇̟̤̞̳̲̖̘̜̫͈͓̳̙̯̻͖͉̗̜̤̼̯̜̯̖͙̟̼͎͍̼̱̥̻̮̬̯̜͚͍͚̼͕̼̗̜̗̋͒͗̅̂̓̔̏̾͌̓̽̔̇͒͛͂̈̏͋̚̚̕̚̕͝ͅͅt̷̨̨̧̨̢̨̡̢̧̡̡̢̡̞̖̹̖͚͈͓̘̹̤̝̘̫̹̪̝̣̪̮̠͎͓̟̺̳̺̙̬̙̹̙̩͓̮͙̳̯͖̩̭̥̠̟͔̖̙̟͕̣͗̈́̉͊̈́̄̍̈́͗̅̔͋̎͊͛͐͒͊͛̍͊͗̒̎̈̀̒̒̓̊͊͊̀̌͆́̈́̆͐̍̂̚̕͜͜͝͠͝͠͠ͅo̵̡̢̨̰̲̜̘̰̦͈̮̰̥̠̟̙̯͔͚̱̗̞̟̙͕̘͉̜̟̟̣̝͆̽͊̐̑͑̐͒͜͝ͅṗ̶̡̧̧̛̬͉͓̘̤̝̜͚͔͈̲̝̠̣̝̖̗͓͖̄̃͑̅̏̈́̇̉̾̐̋̂͆̄̅̏̅̒̌̌̏͗̓̃̊͗͗̏͐̄͘͝ͅ,̸̨̨̢̧̢̛̲̝̝̞̥͎̗̯̓͂́͐̿̽͐̓̉̾̏͌͗̑̋͋͒̾̿͑̓̂̌̔͌̋̽́̾̋͐̒̃͐̽͒̀̈̐͆͌̎͒̈̒̅̍̿͆͛͂̿̈́̽̀̑̋̚͠ ̵̧̧̧̢̨̛͇̣͇̠͖̞̹̼̯̲̺͉̜͍̱̰̫͇͖̗̻̹̘̟̤̙̺̫͇̩̉͒̄̂͋̋͐͛̔̍̅͂͊̌̒̐̚͝s̵̨̨̨̡̧̡̧̲̺̞͔̼̳̥̭̥̱̯͍͔͖͎̹͔̥̠̮̣̱͎͎̭̘͕̹̩̙̳̱͔͔̜̗͕̰͎̮̣̞͉͔̦͔̩̰̦̦̥̘͉͉̦̝̞̳̭̩̎́̇͌͑ť̵̨̡̧̢̧̨̧̧̡̧̨̢̙̣̜͇̯͚̜͇͖̱̻̙͙̖̼̩̩͓͎̞̪̮͈̥͈͇͙̜̪̟͙̻̩̪̻͉̹͇̹̠̲̗̖̗̹̦̭͙̙̹͙̫̺̘̖̎͛̈́̐̊͗̾̽͑̓͐̊͋͑̃̎̊̈̋͐̈̏̂̄̽̎͛͒͘ờ̶̢̢̢̡̨̧̢̨̢̡͈̳͉̼̠̤͍͎̬̣̼̰̘͎͕̱͇̜͚͚̟͔̰̺̣̥̲͙̬͖͍̩͕͖̬͖͔̺͖͇͉̺͚̤͎͍̯̖̙͇̙̖̝͇̙͉͎̜̞̭̜͈̭̻̺͑͐̐̒̾̑̉́̉̈̉̅͒́̈́̒̅̎́͗̑͒̉̐͋͑͒̑̽͗͌̑͗̈̃̓̈́̉̋̆̉͊͐́̽̾̀̏́͆͘͜͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͝p̵̧̛̛̲̹̩̝̣̜̯̃͐̈͐́̑̍̏̑̄̀̈́͂̌͑͗̄̀̓̋͂́̅͌̇͐̽̽̓̅̑̾̈́̃̐̽̑͒̑̄̉̓̈́́̃͌̃̅͑͌̈́͗̓͐̋̓͂̅̂͋̚̕̕͝͝͝͝͝,̴̢̡̢̨̡̨̡̛̟̤̖̣̝̼̬͙̦̪̦̗̳̻͍̦̼̼̙͕̳͇͍͉̰̞̙̱̮̻̟̰̘̟̩͈͈͕̼̞̞̥̟̭͖̗̗̱͎͒̔̽͆͛̀̋͛̈̐̈́̄͋̃͛̒̆͊̔̃̈͂̍̎͋̊̓̉̐͛́͐́̌̑̂̈́̈̊̉̽́̈́̌̓͆̂͗̈́̽̿͑̍̓̏̆̄̏̏̉̿̔̉̽̾͆͂̊̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝ ̸̨̢͍̜̫̟͇̰̳͚̯͇̥̝̣̝͖͔̹̰̻̪̺̯͓̐̅̃̿́̈́̏̋̓̈́̓͛̊̓̈́͜Ş̵̧̡̢̧̢̧̧̧̛̛̜͎̤͚̱͉̞͙͇̫̣̟̬̥̖̱͙̖̹̩̦̦͇͍͓̬̯̜͓͓̣̭͖̠̙̹͙̲̞͔̺͍͚̼̻͙͚͖̬̱̫̘͙̤̜̻̳̄̐̂̀͋̆̃͊̒̾̅̍̔̋̂̓̅̔̾̑̀̉͑̑́̀͑̇̓͑̈́̿̓͐͐̐̉̑͒͋̓͂̓͘̕̚͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅT̴̡̡̨̨̯͔̳͕͖̰̪͔͇͍͉͚̜͓̠̦̬̫̻̖̹̥̜͚̣͔̥̳̩̭̥͉͍̠̦̹͔͕̯͉̖̫̹̰̞͚̦̲̤̩̹͚͖̻̈́̀̐̌̀͆̌͗̊͋̔͂̎̿̐̋̓͑̄́̇̒͋̃̋̈́̽̾͂̉̾͂̉͛̋̔̌̌̈́̊͛̕̕̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅỚ̸̗̜̻̺͚͙̜̞͎̝͕̘̠̭̯͕̞̗͙̩̂̓̉͆̅͌͒͂͆̈́̓̇͗̔͐͊͑̌̾̑͐̆͒͐̑͒̈̂̈̒̈́̅̋́̔̑͂̓̿̀̊͐̈́̀̒̂͐͌̇̋̀͆̊̀͛̚̕͘͘͘̚͜͝͠͠͝͝ͅP̶̧̢̢̛̤͕̭͙͕͔̟̯͈̰͕̭͕̼̲̦̠͍͓̝̭̲͈̲̜̬̠̥͕̝͎̮̳͖͉̭̞̲̺̟͕̙̘͓͎͕͔̲̗͚͍̪̙̥̗̝͇̾̍̒͛͐̍̎͐̇͑̒́̇̿͛͋̅̽͛͛̍̔̀̀͂͆̅̃͌͛͒̊̄̽̍̄̅̍̐̿̃̊̅̋̾͊͑̈̐̽̿̄̈́̄̌͋̓̓͆̍̋̚̕̚̕͜͜͝͠͠͠ͅ,̸̧̧̢̢̧̮̟̞̠̼̜͈̺̦̠̼̪͙̯͓̘͙̱̞͍̪͖̦̜̣̯̠̣͉̩͔̌́͋͂͑̍̀̃̔͗͌̏̓̉́̂́̄́̎̈́̑̀̏͘̕͘͜͝͠͝ ̷̢̢̛̯͎̙̩͉̣̜̣̯̳̻̜̮̦͓̮̺̼̘͚̥͖̦̪̞̫̭̗̻͈̹̳͖͈̠̼̞̗̖̩̪̳̯̩̤̤̳͈̩̝̯͍̠͔̱̻̬͛̌͋̒͗͆̊̏̒̈̊͒̔͗͑̃́͂̈́͒̍̾̅́̑͑̀̔͑͂͐͆͛͗̕̚͘͘͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅS̶̡̢̛̛̺̦̗̳̗̲̗̯̰͓̱̜̜̥̤̮͉͎̦͉͎͔͉̭̍̓̉̔̋̓̓̎̓͐͂̃̇̇͗̿͊̀̒̓̇͒̽̓̃̄̐̓̆̓͆͂̌͒̃̊͒̇̂͗̏͘̚̕͘̕͝͝ͅT̵̀̆̿̈́̾̂̌͛̄̅͛͒̆̽͒̉̌̔̑̎̊̓͗̑̍̑͆͆̑̆̑̓̾̓̎̆̔̔̇̏̿̊̔͂̅͘̕͘̚͜͠͝͝͝͝͝Ờ̷̢̢̨̡̡̢͍͕̱̥̳̻̹͚̫̩͚̘̯̰͇̘̬̳̹̺͕͍̠͚̞̫̹̜͙̲̗̞͓̩̪̱̘͍͍̠͙̖̺̳͍̟̪̝̟͕̗̣͈͉̠̺̻͍̟͋͊̑̈́̽̃̔̒̔̈̋͂̆͑̽͑̿̀͒̍͆͊̓͌̾͛̃̈́͊̏̐̑̐̾̀̿̉͒̚͘͜͜͝ͅP̸̛̩̯͔̞͔̠͉̩̜͙̝̣͍̹͙͈̥̮̈́̍͋̑̉̆̓͆̊͌̅͛̀̌̇̍̑̃̎̈́͒̄͌̈̾́̈́̐̂͑́̉̊͋̈̎̅͋̔͊̑͗͗̌͆̃͊̇͆̾̉́̉̇̃̾͗̆̈͒̇͋̈̕̕̕̕̚̕̕͜͜͠͝͝͠͝ͅ,̶̨̢̡̢̛̰͍̫̩͎̳͙͍͉̱͇̦̺̫̹̹̖̹͓͇͚̯͕̫̣͖̳̻̭̜̜̣̣̝͉̟̤̮̼̬͉͇̞͚̘̦̝̱̇̈́̉̑̿̎̏̍̒̌̀̎͛̅́̋̈́̾̅̐̈̏̈̿̅̍͂̊͆̆̐̑̎͋̂̋̈̒̿͌̈̃͛̕̚͜͜͝ͅ ̶̢̨̙͎̱̩̤̯͍̺̘̤̤̬̻͖̭͉͔̲̼͖̽̓̅̔̓͌̒̓̃̔͂̀͗͗͂͆͌̉̉͌͑͋̀͊̈́̄́̽̐̅̆̋̏̃͆̀̉̈̎̊̃̿̐͋̀͆̉̒̅͒̽̓͋͗̅̐̔̌̉̽̀͆͊͑̓̑̅͆̃̄̕̚͘͜͝͠͝͝S̵̢̛̫̖̱͓̹̭̬̺͖̻͓̹̄̍̔̅͂̇̂̽̀̈́͐̊͗̓̏̉̍̍̂̿͑̅͆̄͆̋̎̌̔̌̓̀̈́͂̾̓͊̃̅̒͑̊̃͛͌̎̂͘̚̕̚͘͝͝͝͝Ţ̴̛̬̘͔̩̱̘̤̝̭̟̩̟͚̺̼̠͔̼͎͚͖̗̖̠̟̘̹̩̝̦̟̰̟͓̝̟͓͍̭̣̮̦̣̩̤̣̜̤͗̊͌̎̓̔̎͌͛̔̿̍̃̎̈́͜ͅͅͅͅO̵̢̡̡̧̡̢̞̲͖̠̪̳̜̝̯̯̘̳͇͖̗̜͚̮̥͕͈̳̙͇̩̗̥̬̠͈̞̠̜̝̭̠̬̺̘̼̟͉̖̩͚͉̼̼̊͊̆̑̑̾͒̈́̈́̊̇̽̔̍̂͂̅̒̓̈́̈́͛̅̈́̑́̌͌͆͂̓͋̄̆̾̇̅̈́̔́̕͘͘͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅṔ̵̡̨̨̧̧̨̧̡̛̛̛̞̤̹̝̘̥̦͔͍͍̻͖̱̫̘̟̦̤̲͎͚̱͈̼̻̩̖̰͇̤̬̜̼̱̟̤̺̳̬̮̲̩͚͕̦̯͕̠͎̦͇͚̖̬̜̤͉̠̞͓͎̤̮̬̘͓̞͐̍̽̈̃̍̄̈́̍͆̐̇̑̆͂͛̍͑̋̍̿̉̑́͆͌̍̀͗̀̔́̓͑̂̈́̈͒̆̏̄̇̎̉̋̐̄̎̆̌̃͌̌͊̓̒͋̚̚̕̕̚͝͠͠ͅͅ,̵̨̧̡̨̨̧̡̧̨̨̛̛̛̛͖̰̙̫̟̰̥̬̱̮̫̞͚̼̼͍̲̙͕̪̥̱̻͔͇͉̟̤͈̝̦̱̪͍̞̟̮̩͈̪͉̯̗͓͉̙̜̼̳͇̜̞̲̫̖̘̣̲̝͎̟̙͍̟̫̱̠̟͇̎̀̉̓̾̐͊̂̅̌͂͂̽̅̋̑̏̃̎̆͒͛̐͊̏̄̅̐̾̌͆̌̈́́͌̑͋̈̏̄̔̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅ ̵̧̧̡̛̛̱͈̬̠̝̞̪̪͎̝͍̣̪̩͕̝̯̬͔͈̦̲̘̆͒́̋͌͊͆̈̋͆̌̏̅̋̆́̉̋̅͐͂̓̅̊̽̅̉͒́̇́̅̈̅̀͐̈́̈̚̕͘̕͝͝͝͝͝ͅP̷̢͇͇̠͔͚̲̗̼̪̟̪̐͑̔͒͂̈́͊̅̈́͐̋̑̔͋̌̄́̐̔̓̃̅͆̋̑̉͊͋̇̽̌́̒̒̉͛̔̋̆̿͌̒̈́̄͑̋̓̈́͗̓̑̇͊͋̃̏̃̊͘͘̕̚͘̕̚͘͜͠͠͠͝͝͝ͅL̷̡̢̢̧̡̡̛̛̰̹̖̘̭̥̣̱̫̣̟͔̭̰̩̖͈̮̫̲̦̣̱̻̄̊̊̇̇̉͊̿͒̈́͌͋͗̾̋͑̓̿̎̃̒͐͊̓͑̅͜͝ͅE̵͈̺͔̤̮͓̟̳̰̤͍͉̗̼̫̠̞̣̦͖͕̔̿̒̄̀̃̂͐̉̈́̚Ä̴̧̢̡̫̹̠͈̦̮͔͙̖̙̪̮̻̟͕̦͔͖̩̬͈̾̐̀̄̂͂̆̐̓̂̊͂̈́̊̔̀͐͒̓̋̓̔̂͊̆̾̈́̊̊̎̏̍͆͐͐̉͂̄͋̄̈́͑̓͆̅̑̽̊̎̿̓͌̔̓̿̓͂̏̉̃͋͊͛̃̇̎͒̃̏̂̚̚̕̚̚͝͠͝͝͠S̸̨͍̼̘̹͆̀͒̈́̎͂̑͌͐̿̾̒̇͛̏̄̈́̃̍̋̋͘͘̚̕ͅE̷̢̡̨̨̧̧̡̢͈̱̤̥̘̳̼̠͔̥͖̠̬͉̦͎̰̮̹̫̥̠̼̣̥̩̜̤͔̹̝̜̗̬̩̤̖͓̗̮̱͚̗͇̟̝̮͖͍̹̦̣̊̄̾̉́̎͌̈́̽̓̋͂̆͌̅͊̅̊̑̉̍̽̀̌͋̃͐͌̒̋̆̋̈̈́̿̽̿͂̅͒̊̍͛͗̽̕̕̕͘̚͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅ ̵̨̡̡̨̡̢̨̛͖̭̜̲͍̘̝̩͇͇̟̯͔̫̭̻͍͎̠͓̜̱͚̠̳̝̭̫̼̞̟̞̗̣͈̠̖̠̲̦̫̳͉̪̣͔͓͓͕̜̦̱̔̓͊͋͛͒͛̓͂͋̐͋̓͐̈́͑̃̿̕͘͘͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅJ̵̧̢̢̛̮͙̜̬̞͔͕̙̙͓̙͚̞̙̫̻͓̘̗͈͎͙͇̞̜͎͔̖̦̠̩͚̰̘͉̜̤̀̎̎̍̓̊̆͛̈́̂͗̎͊̑̎̀̔̈͋̀̈́̀̉̈́͋̇̈̏̾͒̏͐̽̔̓̐̅̌̈́͋͌͜͝͝͝U̵͇̫̎̀͊͐̑̍̽͂͂̎̅̇̃̇̈̓̇͌̑̂͛͊̋̃͗̕̚͠͝͝S̴̛̼͍͇̆̿̂̐̌̅̾̚͝T̵̡̡̡̺̬͈̖̙͔̖̱̜̭͇͉͚̳̝͎̩̜̘̫͍͍̲̺̼̠̤̺͇̣͙̠̫̠̪̙͇̘͈̟̜̖̻̫̞̣̫̤̝͙̱̰̘̝͕̲͚̱̭̭͕̰͉͚̤̦̅̽͛̓͋͊͛͛̈́̍̓͊̃̍̀̈́͐̀̎̔͐̐͂̕̕͜͜͜͜͠͝ͅͅ ̸̢̛̛̛̱̮̱̩̫̩͉͔̪̠̰͎͉̩̺͖͙̲̪̫̙̭̫̞̹̮͚̣͎̝̥̙̤͈͇̗̼̜̲̦̦͎̳͔͙͈̞̟̙̪̣̜͆̈́͊̂̋̔̑͐͊́͊̏̔̒̓́̄̔̽̾̌̐͑͋̅̓̎̈́̋͒̒̍̿̎͐̀̉̈́͛̉͐̄̓̽̒̈́͗̋́̓̃̐̑̕̚̕̕͘͝͠͝͠͝͠ͅͅŞ̸̢̨̡̢̡̛̛̹̤̗̮̬̰̫̗̦̫͓̥̱͉͚̩̲̠͎̫̟̙͇̮̯͇̻͕̝̤̜̤̫̭͉̹̩̦̹̱͕̰̮̝̹̤̙̖̭͓͎̳̿̓̋̉̈́̔̀̿͆̽́̿̒̅̊̓̅̐̾́͛̒̃̐̒̓̌̍̂̄̊̾̔̔̂͒̄̃̎̉̍̄͊̇̿̈́͋̓̆̉̏͗̈́̓̒͗͛̑͂̓̕̚̕̕̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠T̶̡͔͍͍̲̹͉̣̜̠͈̩͍͉͇̟̣̬̣̹͖̻͖̲̩̼̖͉͔̖̰͖̥̖̩̖̮̗̮̲̖͈͔̬͇͙̥͙͙͎̫͉͎̣͇̯͋͊̋̐̈̂̈́̆̈́́̈́̚̕͝͝͝O̸̩̱̞̙̍͐͒̂̽̕P̵̡̖͇̙̠̫̤͖̬̭̰̜̣͙̖͎̟̝̭̗̬̪̀̐̒̾͊͒̋̓̒̈͋̽̉̿͊̌͗̔͌̄̕͘͝͠-̵̢̢̧̜̥̖̫̫͚͈̼͔͔̳̼̙̖͔͈̮͖͙͉͖͖̜̗̣̩͕͎̮̰̭͙̺̰̜̭̣̙͇̯̃͊͐̋̿̑̌̒̊́̑̈͋̓͌̌̈͗̋̏͛̏̆͂͗̇̍̈́͆̇͗̌͒̎͑͌͂̇̌͛́̉̎͆̒͛̉̇̌̒́̓̚̚̚͘͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̸̡̧̧̛̛̳͍̗͚͈͈̼̖̺̮̼̥̗̹̤̍̋̄̇͂̈́̓̑͆̈́̋͑̓̔̒̿̎́̈́̑̇̍̓̈́̅̄͊͌̒̊̏̏̔̑̃̈́̈́͒̍̉́̂̏̕͝͝

**Author's Note:**

> **:)**
> 
> chile anyway, the thought of ranboo hurting tubbo and michael while in enderwalk because of dream just kills me, especially with the headcanon that he's aware of whats going on while in that state but forgets when he snaps out of it. theres a few little details i added that i think are cool because they nod to some canon things and also at some other things but im way too lazy to list em for you so i just hope you were entertained for a little bit
> 
> thanks for reading


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